


Rabbits

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Referenced Food Kink, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On that first night in Bilbo’s home, Bofur and Nori talk filthy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rabbits

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Ficlet for anon’s “Nori and Bofur are both ridiculously enthusiastic dirty talkers, so when they are together it combines into something so obscene that it probably ought to be illegal. Someone overhears this and is very traumatized (and maybe a little turned on, which is probably worse)” request on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24920949#t24920949). **Warning** : This story unintentionally squicked the OP. It's kept up for those that did like it, but others should be warned that it is actually really strangely obscene.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Dwarves are messy, uncouth, too big, too boisterous and over all too _improper_ for Bilbo’s liking. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, there’s one brief, happy moment where he doesn’t remember anything that’s happened, and he’s very confused about the loud noises groaning through the darkness.

Then he leans over the side of his bed and spots a large dwarf in the middle of his bedroom, curled up in some of his best linens, and he realizes that all the clamour is the collective snoring of too many dwarves.

He rolls back onto his pillow, staring wide eyed at the ceiling and hoping desperately that he’ll go back to sleep and it’ll all turn out that _this_ was actually the dream.

Except that his mouth is very dry, and on the rare occasions when he does get up at night, he usually likes to get a glass of water. For a good few minutes, he’s paralyzed, trying to talk himself out of that drink. But inevitably, that only makes his throat sorer, and he knows it’s just no use.

He creeps out of his bed, quiet as a mouse, and slips on the house robe hanging off the back of his door. He keeps checking, out the corner of his eye, on the state of the dwarf—what was his name again? Thorin Oakenheel?—and then open his door ever so softly, paranoid that the faintest creak will wake all the dwarves like trolls.

There are another two dwarves bundled up in the hallway, smaller but still too imposing, wrapped around each other and snoring lightly. Bilbo hugs the other wall, staying as far away from them as he can. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, having to weave around dwarf after dwarf in the process. By the time he’s rounding the pantry, he’s pale as a sheet and not at all sure this water will be worth the trouble. 

He makes it halfway around the corner to the kitchen, spots two dwarves settling down at his table, and he pulls right back around the corner, out of sight. He can hear them crunching away, apparently polishing off the last of what little food he had left, but it just doesn’t seem worth the trouble right not to go after them. He’s _tired_ , and frankly more than a little scared, irritated but mostly just warn down, so he slinks sullenly to the floor. With his back to the wood, he resolves to sit until the other dwarves leave his kitchen in peace. He’s not sure he could bear witnessing another near-massacre of his mother’s best dishes. 

“Where should we take up after this, Nori?” Bilbo hears one of them ask, and the voice is familiar, though he has to search his head for whom it belongs to—the one with the hat, maybe? That started all those songs up? Bifur? Bofur?

The other dwarf—Nori, apparently—fills in for him, “Up to you, Bofur. Give me a moment to digest, though.”

“Of course, of course. Just like a little bit of talk while I eat. We could settle in right here, I suppose.”

“We’d break the table,” Nori laughs, which makes Bilbo automatically wince. It’s bad enough they all slammed their dirty hands on it all throughout supper, without... whatever it is they’re planning.

“Garden then?” Bofur suggests, and it sounds like he’s chewing. “You ever make love in flowers?”

“Never made love,” Nori snorts. “I’ve ploughed my fair share into the dirt, though!”

Bofur chuckles, while Bilbo’s eyes go very wide. Not his _garden_. The thought of those rowdy dwarves rolling around in his flower bushes is almost enough to make him cry. Bag End has one of the nicest gardens in all the Shire, in Bilbo’s opinion, and now these awful dwarves want to ruin it with their inappropriate behaviour. He can only hope they’re joking.

After a minute’s pause, Bofur exclaims, “I’ve got it! _Under_ the table.”

“Under the table? Don’t be daft; there’s no room down there to move around! We should go to Master Baggins’ bedroom—that’ll be the comfiest.”

More terror fills Bilbo’s head, and he has to tell himself they’re _only joking_ just for the sake of his own sanity. Bofur quips, “Thorin’s already sleeping there.”

“So? You just try not to scream so loud as usual, and he’ll go right on sleeping.”

“You stop pulling my braids, and I’ll stop screaming.”

Bilbo tries to picture Bofur’s braids, remembering them on either side of his head, while Nori answers, “I thought you wore those for handles. And don’t try to tell me you don’t like a bit of hair pulling! You seemed to like me tugging them well enough the last time I saw you and had them wrapped around my cock.” Bilbo has to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop his choking noise.

Bofur says right back, “I’m not saying not to pull them, just not to pull them if you don’t want me to cry out like a dragon in heat. How do you think you would sound if I grabbed your braids in the middle of a solid fuck, eh? The last time you fucked me with your beard and I pulled the point out of your hair, you were loud enough to wake even Bombur!”

“That wasn’t about my hair,” Nori scoffs, “that was because of the view. With you stuffed right against my face like that, I had your dick right against my nose! It was all I could do to keep your balls out of my mouth, and then you kept clenching your asshole when I didn’t expect it—”

“Maybe if you were good enough with your tongue, I wouldn’t need your beard to get myself off.”

Bilbo is _horrified_. He wants to clamp his hands over his ears, but he’s too frozen to move, and he keeps expecting them to hear him hyperventilating and burst around the corner. But they just keep going, and Nori laughs, “I’ve got the best tongue of the bunch! You just ask Fíli and Kíli—I’ve made them both cry before, you know.”

“At the same time?” Bofur whistles. “I know I’ve thought about getting those two naked before but never dared, what with Thorin and all. Trust you to go for it anyway!”

“Hey, if Thorin didn’t want his gorgeous nephews split open on my fat cock, he shouldn’t have invited me along! Honestly, I can get a stiffy just from looking at those two.”

“Hey, what about me?” Bofur says it like he’s offended, but only laughs fondly. Bilbo’s squirming, supremely uncomfortable, but for some reason he can’t seem to bring his legs to move and get him out of here. So he just sits back against the wall, subtly leaning in to hear Bofur ask, “Which one’s tighter? I bet Fíli’s a screamer, but I always pictured Kíli as the wild one.”

“Both tight as hell, actually. Had to open them up with my fingers first—none of the quick fucks you and I do; it’d break them apart. Kíli cries when you pull his hair, too, and Fíli’ll come the second you touch his balls.”

“Well, they’re young,” Bofur laughs. “Can’t expect everyone to last as long as you do.”

“When you get a chance, you should make some nice cock rings for them—let them practice a bit.”

“You don’t have any you can lend them? I must’ve made you a dozen!”

“To give to other people—I wasn’t wearing them all! Besides, Bofur, you know _exactly_ which toys I want out of you...”

Bilbo has no idea. He doesn’t even know what they’re talking about in places—what’s a cock ring? Is it... does it...? He starts to picture twine wrapped in a little circle around the head of his own cock, and that was a mistake, because Bilbo is trying very hard _not_ to picture anything at all. The whole conversation is starting to make him very hot, and he quietly unlaces the belt of his robe to compensate.

Behind him, Bofur asks, “So where are we going to sleep, then? I’m almost done my crumpet.”

“Save a bit: maybe we’ll take it to bed.”

“You’re not going to make me eat it out of your hole again, are you?” Bilbo stiffens, sure he heard that wrong, but Nori only laughs, and Bofur goes on, “I’m just going to wind up fucking crumbs into you, and that won’t be a pretty mess to clean. Why don’t you suck it out of my beard?”

“I was thinking of eating it right out of your mouth, but if you’re going to cut straight to the fucking, I can think of a few things I’d rather but in your mouth.”

“Your balls don’t taste as good as you think they do, Nori.”

Before Bofur’s even done talking, Bilbo comes to the horrible, agonizing realization that he’s _hard_. He completely doesn’t understand why: this is all one big horror story, and he really should stop listening, because it’s all very disgusting—these are the two most obscene people Bilbo’s ever met in his life. And he’s a very proper hobbit who has absolutely no interest in obscene things, especially not things so lewd they should be illegal. But then Nori answers, “Ori would disagree with you. You know, my dear baby brother used to _beg_ me to put my balls in his mouth—he’d suck on them while he went to sleep, like a soother.” His _brother_. Bilbo stuffs his hand against his crotch, mostly willing it to go down. He _can’t_ be getting aroused to this nonsense.

Bofur snorts, “And what’d Dori think of you fucking poor Ori’s face at night, eh?”

“He’d join right in! That kid might be small, but he can take his share of cock, let me tell you. You should try it sometime. He’s well trained. You just tap his shoulder, and he gets right down on his knees—” Bilbo, trying both to remember and forget which one Ori is, is now kneading himself through his pants whilst hoping against hope those two monsters get out of his kitchen.

“I think I’d rather stick to your ass, especially after all this talk. C’mon, let’s get these plates out of the way—if we can’t do it on or under the table, we’ll just have to push it out of the way and go around!”

“My dear Bofur, you read my mind. But it’s not my ass you’re getting. I was planning on plugging you up.”

“Comprise: we’ll take each other’s mouths.”

“Brilliant!”

And then, worst of all, Bilbo hears them get up, hears his table legs scraping along the floor, and hears the brush of clothing while they fiddle with theirs. They’re going to have sex right on his nice, clean floor. And if Bilbo doesn’t move soon, he’s going to have to hear it all.

And then he’s probably going to stain his pants over a pair of awful dwarves bent on corrupting him.

Somehow, Bilbo finally manages to get up on his shaking knees, just as the table thuds into place. He takes off as the lewd sounds of making out filter around the corner, and he desperately hopes that if Thorin can sleep through two dwarves fucking, he can also sleep through one little hobbit shamefully touching himself deep beneath the covers.


End file.
